


Heavy Is the Crown

by nycgrl, simonisbetter



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: AU, Affairs, Alternate History, Betrayal, Dark Romance, Defection, East Coast Resistance, Eastern States, Euthanesia, Evelyn shot first, Evelyn wears glasses is stereotypical, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Smut, F/M, Greater Nazi Reich, Implied Smut, Japanese, Japanese Pacific States, Love, Nazis, Non-con smut, Pacific States, Post WWII, Rape, Resistance Fighters, Romance, Smut, Spies, Treason, Violence, War, West Coast Resistance, different pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:37:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nycgrl/pseuds/nycgrl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonisbetter/pseuds/simonisbetter
Summary: "Deny it to a King?Then, happy low, lie down!Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."//Henry IV, Part II, Act III, Scene I//





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was thought up and became a full-blown project in less than a day, with both me and Simonisbetter watching the first episode of The Man in the High Castle and instantly falling in love, me with the dear Obergruppenführer, and her with the lovely Joe Blake. So of course, a new story is born.

_Upstate New York, Greater Nazi Reich, 1962_

 

The lace curtain was pulled back as grey eyes observed the street below. There had been disturbances in the city that afternoon; shouting, sirens, gunfire. No mention of what had happened, though, and she doubted it would be in the morning papers. Albert wasn’t home yet, which was an oddity. Her methodical older brother stuck to a carefully mapped daily schedule, and always informed the family should he be deviating from it. He hadn’t been home since last night.

 

Sending up a silent prayer that nothing had happened to him, she let the curtain fall back into place, turning to go up the stairs. She paused by the second door in the hallway, hesitating before turning the handle and poking her head inside. Nothing was out of place, indeed his room was perfectly neat, the bed made, books stacked on the desk, clothes folded on the chair.

 

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, though, and she closed the door behind her before creeping over to the bed and kneeling beside it. There was a loose floorboard there, that Albert would sometimes hide things beneath, things he didn’t want their father to find. Alcohol, cigarettes, the like. If he wanted to share with her, he’d tell her to ‘go look out the window to watch the sunset’.

 

It had worked, their father had never caught on.

 

Wedging her nails beneath the board, she pried it up, and found a round metal tin beneath it, a small envelope on top of it.

 

She took up the envelope and turned it over, her heart dropping a bit to find her name written on the back.

 

_Tatiana-_

 

_I leave this here as I know you’re the only person that would ever find it. If you’re reading this, I expect something’s happened to me, but don’t worry, sis, everything will work out in the end. Keep this tin safe, don’t let anyone find it. Watch it when you can. It’ll explain everything._

 

_I love you,_

_Albert_

 

Something happened, but everything would be fine? What was he mixed up in?

 

Setting aside the envelope, she opened the tin, finding a film reel inside. A piece of tape stuck to the frame labelled it _“The Grasshopper Lies Heavy”_.

  
What on earth?

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Seattle, Washington, Japanese Pacific States, 1962_

 

Scanning the shelf for the desired volume, Evelyn pinpointed the book that had been requested, _Japanese War; The Art and Traditions of Our Great Ancestors_. Grabbing the book off the shelf, Evelyn walked back to the front desk where a young boy waited patiently, twisting his wool cap in his hands.

 

“Here we are, I’ve read the book myself, it’s very informative.” Evelyn smiled at the boy, her accent holding a practiced inflection, “Will you be staying here or renting the book out?”

 

“I’ll rent it please, miss. I have to read it for class.”

 

“Alright, that’ll be two Yen.”

 

He plunged a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of crumpled bills. With a bow, the boy took the book after she gave a receipt and hurried from the library.

 

Evelyn went about her day of restocking and arranging books in the back aisles, occasionally pushing her glasses further up her nose when they slipped. The creak of the main doors alerted her to an incoming patron, followed by the routine pause of them signing in at the front desk before ringing for a clerk. She set the pile of Japanese proverb books on the cart and rounded the corner. The man looked at her with recognition but proceeded to sniff and tip his hat.

 

“Hello, may I help you in any way?” She took the sign-in sheet from him, “Mr. Jones.”

 

“Yes, I need a copy of _Japanese Entertainment; A History_.” He produced a wad of bills from his pocket, “I will need to rent it for several days, it is for my son. He is young and and enjoys what most young men do, including the cinema.”

 

Evelyn quirked a brow, but said nothing, this Mr. Jones didn’t sound too convincing. But that wasn’t for her to say, and she bid him to wait while she checked the shelf. She returned empty handed, as expected.

 

‘I’m sorry, sir, but it appears that has been recently checked out.” She pulled out her ledger, “Ah, but the book is due back tomorrow, would you like me to put it on hold when it does?”

 

He smiled, tipped his hat, and thanked her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evelyn pulled her key from the lock, and riffled through the mail. Two letters for Margerie, multiple bills, and nothing for her. With a sigh, she hooked her coat on the rack by the door and called out for her housemates.

 

“Marg? Gloria?” She called again and found the apartment empty. They must be out for supper. She seized the time she had before they got back to open the note.

 

It was a sly exchange she was growing wary of, having the messenger sign the sheet and then take it from him to read his name, all while taking the note he slipped underneath the ledger. Of course, she would be wary of everything, it was in her nature.

 

“ _GP No. 9_ ”

 

The envelope included a 7:30 bus ticket to Shelton, and checking her wristwatch, she had a little over an hour to pack. GP No. 9, Georgia-Pacific railway, engine number nine. She had gone there before, an abandoned railway track. This would be another routine delivery and she would be back before her shift on Monday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evelyn pushed her glasses to rest on the bridge of her nose and swept her flashlight over the abandoned rail track switch station. She crouched next to the rusted electrical box and reached an arm into its broken frame. Pulling out the canister, she put her flashlight under her arm and opened the package.

 

“ _The Grasshopper Lies Heavy…_ ”

  
The inscription was scrawled in black ink on masking tape, and there was another ticket for her, to Canon City, Colorado, the Neutral Zone. Evelyn smirked to herself, rising to her feet as she tucked the film reel carefully in her pocket, and turning back into the darkness of the railyard.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_SS Headquarters, New York City_

 

“Obergruppenführer. There’s a girl here, that the police have brought in.”

 

“What of her, Captain?”

 

“She has a film, sir.”

 

His gaze darted up at that, meeting the Captain’s for a long moment.

 

“Where, exactly, did you find this girl?”

 

“On the streets, sir. She sounds like she might be German, oddly.”

 

“Bring her in.”

 

The Captain clicked his heels and turned for the door, returning a moment later with a girl in tow.

 

When the Captain had said a girl, he’d been expecting a child, not a young lady, as the woman before him looked to be in her early twenties. Her head was down, expression hidden from him, but her hands were clasped together tightly, betraying that she was frightened. She was dressed nicely, he’d again been expecting a street rat, at the Captain’s phrasing, but she wore a navy blue dress and nice shoes, a matching hat topping her dark hair, her hands hidden by cream-coloured gloves.

 

“What is your name?” He inquired after a moment of silent observation, and she looked up at him mildly. He’d thought her bowed head was the result of fear, but perhaps only deference.

 

“Tatiana, sir. Tatiana Richman.”

 

That piqued his interest, and he glanced to the Captain.

 

“Tatiana Richman, the daughter of Colonel Hans Richman?”

 

She looked at him in surprise.

  
“Yes, sir..”

 

He observed her carefully for a long moment. With the knowledge of who she was, he could most certainly see the similarities to her father. Hans was an old friend of his, they’d known each other for years, since the camps. Hans had an ability to see through any situation, to see every possible end result, and that ability had made his insights popular amongst the high command. He’d risen through the ranks quickly, and was currently, or as best he knew, stationed directly under the Fuhrer in Berlin.

His daughter had the same shade of dark hair, her eyes light and keenly observant. If she was as much like her father in personality and motivations as she was in her looks, she’d be a valuable asset to the Reich.

 

“Sit down, Miss Richman.”

 

She seemed slightly startled but sat in the chair he pointed her to, as he rose from his desk. She sat up very straight, her chin lifted slightly, and he smirked to himself. Most certainly Hans’s daughter.

 

“The Captain tells me you have a film.”

 

“Yes.. They made an awful fuss about it. But I swear, I didn’t know what it was.”

 

“Where did you get it, then?”

 

“My brother, sir. He disappeared, last week. I went in his room. There was a loose floorboard, where he used to hide things. Things our father didn’t approve of. It was there.”

 

“And so.. You just took it?”

 

“He left a note with it, for me. I thought it might have something to do with why he disappeared.”

 

“Did you _watch_ the film?”

 

She looked at him as his voice dropped a bit, her eyebrows arching faintly at his change of tone.

 

“No. We don’t have a projector, so I had no way to.”

 

“You are aware, Miss Richman, of a terrorist group calling themselves the East Coast Resistance?”

 

“Of course, one couldn’t miss them. Traitors to the state.”

 

“Mm. The Resistance are trying to collect these films, to bring them to the Man in the High Castle. The Fuhrer wants these films for himself.”

 

“The Man in the High Castle?”

 

“If your brother had one of these films, he was working with the Resistance.”

 

“Albert?” She laughed suddenly. “My brother cares for books and schooling, and little else. Certainly not politics.”

 

“It’s possible he was simply a messenger, passing them off to others. But regardless, he was working for them.”

 

She gazed at him with a small frown for a moment.

 

“I don’t believe that Albert would be stupid enough to do that, given our father’s position.”

 

“Yes, it would reflect badly on your family.”

 

“Of course.”

 

He studied her for a long moment, folding his arms. She had potential, this girl. Loyal to a fault.

 

“I wonder, Miss Richman, what you intend to do now?”

 

“I’m not at all sure what I _should_ do, sir.”

 

“Well, if you’re loyal to the Fatherland... Serve your country.”

 

~~

 

“Well well, Albert.. What to do with you.”

 

The young man raised his head a bit, his body bruised and bloody from the torture inflicted on him. The chains around his wrists, keeping his body upright, clinked together, the soft movement overloud in the concrete cell.

 

“I’ll tell you nothing.” He repeated for the umpteenth time, and the Obergruppenführer smiled dryly.

 

“I no longer need you to.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the film, and the young man’s eyes widened a bit.

 

“Where did you-- what have you done? Do whatever you like to me, but spare Tatiana!”

 

“I haven’t done a thing to your sister, Albert. Still you try to protect her. How does it feel to know that the one person you’re trying to save has betrayed you?”

 

“Betrayed me?”

 

“Tatiana gave me this film, Albert. She’s on a jet as we speak, headed for the Neutral Zone. She’s to be an undercover operative, collecting these films from the Resistance.”

 

“You’re lying. Tatiana would never.”

 

“Why would I lie? She agreed, quite readily, I’ll add, after denouncing the Resistance as traitors to the state. Given who your family is, I can’t imagine her desire to work for the Reich would come as a surprise to you.”

 

He turned to the Captain.

 

“I have no further use of this man.”

  
He pocketed the film as he left the cell, a shot echoing loudly through the room as the door closed behind him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Canon City, Colorado, The Neutral Zone _

  


The bus pulled to a stop just below the worn sign that read in faded lettering, the small lights that ran across the letters broken and dull, 

  


“ _ The City, Beautiful Canon City, Elevation 5343-ft _ ” 

  


Evelyn stepped off the bus, stretching her neck, and flicked her eyes over the immediate surroundings. Newspaper scraps and dead leaves fluttered across the damp streets. As the bus pulled out, the release of the breaks echoed a grating squeal, and Evelyn turned around. Before her was the familiar down-and-out Sunrise Diner, and she was glad to see not much had changed, though it was better kept than most of the buildings in town.

  


Evelyn walked towards the old room and board building across from the diner. She pulled her coat bit tighter to herself as a chilling breeze picked up; the sun so rarely came out from behind the clouds during this time of year. 

  


She entered the motel, which was completely unchanged from her last time in Canon, and rang the bell at the front desk. A few moments passed with no sign of the clerk, and she checked her wristwatch. It was ten minutes past twelve, which explained the slow attendance. Lunch time. She rang again and shortly after the owner came from a back room.

  


“Ah, hello Miss Fisher,” he rubbed at his eyes, producing his ledger from a cabinet and pushed it lazily toward her on the long counter.

  


Scrawling her name, Evelyn took the room key and her single suitcase, and made her way up the second floor landing.

~~

The bell above the door jingled, announcing Evelyn’s entrance, and she took a seat at the far end of the bar. The waitress noticed her, and grabbed the half empty coffee pot, the brew inside looking weaker than even the strongest earl grey tea.

  


“Coffee?” Her voice was gentle, and she offered a tired smile with it, which Evelyn returned.

  


“No, thank you. Hot water with lemon, please.” 

  


“Coming right up,” the door jingled again and momentarily distracted the young woman, and Evelyn glanced at the man that had walked in.

  


He was in his mid to late twenties, and loose brown hair fell over his forehead, giving his otherwise serious demeanor a bit of character. He held a cigarette between his fingers, taking small drags. Her interest was peaked when he watched an older man get up and leave the diner, not diverting his eyes as they passed one another.

  


He looked at the waitress before sitting a few seats down from Evelyn at the bar. She had trained herself not to stare for so long but he certainly made it hard. He saw her eyeing him and smirked, turning away and making a comment about the women in front of him getting the job, and Evelyn’s eyes slanted in thought as they spoke, turning her face away,

  


“So that man who just left. He a friend of yours?” He questioned the waitress and Evelyn caught that it was not too playful, a bit of anxiousness underlying his tone.

  


“Why?”

  


“Just jealous, I guess.”

  


The waitress chuckled, putting her coffee pot back on the burner and taking a mug from under the bar for Evelyn’s hot water, and the fluidity of her movement struck Evelyn as strange. She moved with more confidence, leaning on the counter to speak with the man.

  


“You don’t strike me as the jealous type.”

  


“Well you don’t know me that well.”

  


“Fair enough.” The woman chuckled again and Evelyn tried to determine why there was an underlying tone to the exchange, it was certainly more than a simple flirtation between a waitress and a patron. 

  


When the waitress set the steaming cup down in front of her, Evelyn thanked her and took out her pocket sized notebook and pen, and found a blank page. She began writing down her observations thus far with her left hand, lifting the hot cup to her lips with the other. The man next to her noticed, turning toward her slightly, and she added that too,

  


_ “Is curious, likely to-” _

  


“What’s that notebook for? You a student?” He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth, which cracked into a teasing smirk.

  


“No, I just like to write my thoughts down.” She put her pen down as he reached over as she slide the notebook closer to him on the counter for a better look.

  


Chuckling, he read over the page of notes she had just written, and looked up at her questioningly,

“‘Is curious, likely to…’ You sure are observant. Are you positive you aren’t a spy or something?”

  


“Are you a detective?” She countered, and he chuckled again.

  


“No, I’m Joe Blake.” He stuck a hand out and she shook it, and was surprised by the firmness of his grip.

  


“Evelyn Fisher.”

  


The consistent sound of sizzling bacon had been the white noise to fill the space and there was a halt, alerting Evelyn’s attention to the kitchen, catching the eye of Lemuel Washington through the service bar, who was already watching her. She cracked a smile, and he returned it, though somewhat reluctantly. Leaving his post behind the hot stove, he wiped his hands as he approached her at the bar.

  


“Well if it isn’t Miss Evelyn Fisher, it’s been awhile since you were last here. How’s Seattle treating you?”

  


“It’s just fine, Lem. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, librarians don’t get paid leave anymore so I can really only come on the weekends now.”

  


Lem looked at Joe seated at the opposite end of the bar, and back to Evelyn, walking backwards into the kitchen as he spoke,

  


“It was real nice seeing you, Miss Fisher. Have a nice visit.”

  


She nodded her head in response and smiled again, 

  


“Thank you, Lemuel.”

  


The bell above the diner door jingled again, and Evelyn watched keenly as a young woman approached the bar. Her brown hair was pinned back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and her travel dress was finely tailored to her small stature, the cream shade matching that of her ivory skin. She sat carefully at the bar, and she quietly requested a cup of coffee from the waitress.

  


The young woman tugged at her maroon glove nervously, her coffee cup sitting unsteadily in her other hand. From the corner of her eye, Evelyn could see the girl’s handbag on her lap, which was crisp and perhaps no more than six months into use. It matched the shade of her gloves to perfection, which you would not see in the Pacific states. A woman always matched her gloves to her hat, not her bag.

  


The girl took a sip from her coffee cup and made a face.  _ Ah, there it is.  _

  


Evelyn strategically moved a lock of her own auburn hair behind her ear, and the young woman looked at her. She smiled and Evelyn saw a bit of charm in the grey of her eyes and decided to probe her.

  


“Hello, I’m Evelyn, Evelyn Fisher.” She let her natural accent slip a bit, just a little on the ‘sh’, causing the girl to raise her brows, “I can see you’re new to the Neutral Zone.”

  


“How did you know?” The young woman gave a small smile as she drank from her cup again, making the same face, “Am I so different from anyone else here?” She joked, for she obviously was, and Evelyn used this to her advantage.

  


“Yes, you are.” She leaned closer, “So how long have you been a member of the Resistance?”

  


The young woman looked genuinely confused for a moment, Evelyn would give her that, but she had too much evidence to back off. She sat back in her stool again and whispered,

  


“You can trust me, we’re in the Neutral Zone, I don’t really care if you are or aren’t.”

  


Grey Eyes turned away, obviously not planning on revealing anything, which was commendable.

  


“Alright then, I’ll tell you how I know this to be true.” She continued before getting a response, “First, your handbag. It’s no more than six months worn, which means it’s new. What’s more, I have not seen a handbag match a ladies gloves so perfectly, certainly not on the West Coast.” The young woman turned back to her, disbelief marking her features. Evelyn went on.

  


“Next, is your reaction to lousy diner coffee, and judging by your manner of dress, you are used to much finer coffee.” 

  


The young woman held her coffee cup suspended in front of her mouth, which was agape, and it was getting cold. Evelyn snickered, that was a warm-up. 

  


“And as for your accent, well, you tried. I would say you just pronounce your vowels differently but the intonation of the English ‘a’ is slightly different than what you did when you said “am”. It came out sounding more like “em”, classic to how a German sounds when they speak English.” She smirked, “That was the interesting part, because not only are you German-born, but you also belong to a family of station. Which explains the higher end clothing. And the coffee. Thus, East Coast Resistance. ”

  


Another look from the girl, and she set her coffee cup down, rubbing her thumb over her gloves that she clutched tightly.

  


“And lastly,” Evelyn took hold of the girl's hand, and lifted it up. “Your hand is shaking like a leaf, which means you are not a spy, at least not at all experienced. Or you’re an alcoholic, but you’re not. So you are more likely a messenger for the Resistance. So, I’ll ask again, how long?”

  


The girl looked at her blankly and Evelyn glanced past her to where Joe Blake moved over the stools towards them, and he stuck a hand out to the girl surprising her, and she took it,

  


“Hi, I’m Joe. I see you’ve met our resident scholar.” He offered Evelyn a crooked smile, “Watch her, she likes to take notes. So careful where you pick your nose.”

The girl eyed him, glancing at Evelyn for what seemed like a plea for help, 

  


“Oh uh, I’m Anna Frankford. Nice to meet you…”

  


Evelyn cocked a brow,  _ Anna Frankford? Really?  _ The young woman looked at her again, and raised her own brow, as though daring her to challenge that, which Evelyn found an odd characteristic to the otherwise self-conscious girl. Joe watched the two curiously before slapping a hand down on the countertop, in a lively attempt to break the unwarranted tension no doubt,

  


“Well, allow me to introduce Trudy Walker, our gracious hostess.” 

  


The waitress had been serving patrons throughout the diner, drifting behind the counter again as Joe waved her over. Trudy dipped her head and said hello, which Evelyn decided would go into her notebook, as well as the sinking feeling that Joe didn’t just make the introductions to be nice. 

  


Evelyn had put her notebook away before Anna came in, and her hand hovered over the pocket where it resided, hesitating. As the pair seated next to her continued friendly conversation, she shrugged to herself, she had already been ousted so adding to her notes wouldn’t do any harm. When she took her notebook out however, she saw Anna glance at her before continuing her chatter with Joe Blake. 

  


Evelyn noted this, as well as the consistent clockwise rotation to which the girl watched each of those around her. 

  


“Excuse me a moment, will you?” Anna rose from the stool suddenly.

  


Evelyn’s eyes squinted in thought again, as they watched Anna leave, and her gaze snapped to Joe, who had been watching her instead, and she offered a quick smile.

~~

Tatiana slipped a coin into the pay phone, lifting the receiver. A moment later, the phone was answered.

  


“Is Obergruppenführer Smith in? This is Tatiana Richman.”

  


“Yes, one moment, Miss Richman.”

  


She hummed absently as she waited, gaze flickering over the empty street. The wind had picked up, a few pieces of scattered newspaper pages fluttering down the sidewalk. 

  


“Miss Richman, what do you have for me?”

  


“Sir, have you got the name of the contact? Or a description? There are three people here that I suspect could be the contact, and I need to be sure before I approach.”

  


“Their names, Miss Richman.”

  


She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she wouldn’t be overheard. 

  


“Evelyn Fisher, Joe Blake, and Trudy Walker.”

  


“Ah, you’ve met Joe. Befriend him, Miss Richman. He’s also working for me. Take care not to reveal that information to anyone else.”

  


“He’s an operative? Good. What about the other two, sir?”

  


“Find out as much as you can about them. The contact should approach you, when the time is right.”

  


“Yes, sir.”

  


He disconnected and she set the receiver down carefully, pulling her coat tighter about her as she crossed the street and went back into the diner. Evelyn and Joe were still sitting at the counter, while Trudy was refilling coffee for the few other patrons. 

  


“Everything okay, Miss Frankford?”

  


“Yes, everything’s fine.” She slid in beside Joe, sending him a glance out of the corner of her eye. 

~~

_ Later that night _

Tatiana tapped on the door, waiting for a moment. She could hear him talking lowly, sounding like he was on the phone, but the door opened a moment later. 

  


“What’s up, Anna?”

  


She folded her arms and looked steadily at him as he flopped down on the chair by the window, squinting up at her expectantly. 

  


“ _ Seig Hiel,  _ Joe Blake..”

  


His eyebrows arched and he sat up a little. 

  


“Excuse me?”

  


“I wasn’t informed there’d be another operative here, but, the more the better.”

  


“Who do you report to?” He asked cautiously, as she perched on the end of the bed. 

  


“Obergruppenführer Smith, same as you, I heard.”

  


“Who told you that?”

  


“He did.”

  


His eyes were narrowed faintly as he looked at her in amusement. “What’s your real name?”

  


“Excuse me?”

  


“It’s a clever alias, but it’s not your real name.”

  


“Tatiana Richman.”

  


“Related to Hans Richman?”

  


“ _ Ja, mein vater.. _ ” She replied dryly, and his eyebrows arched faintly. 

  


He sat forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at her. “Do you know who the contact is?”

  


“No. It’s either Trudy or Evelyn. My money’s on Evelyn, but Trudy’s hiding something too. I wish they’d just approach so I can get out of here.”

  


“You got a film?” He questioned, sitting back again.

  


“No, my job is to get the film from whichever one of them it is.”

  


Joe stood and stared out the window for a long moment.

  


“And Trudy?”

  


“It’s possible it’s her, as well. But in the meantime, I have a problem.”

  


“What sort of problem?”

  


“Evelyn Fisher. Or, Eva Fischer. She’s German. I remember her from when I was a little kid. She was several years older than me, but we played together, when we were living in Berlin. I can’t risk her recognising me.”

  


“When was the last time you saw her?”

  


“We were children. Years ago.”

  


“Then I doubt you’d have much cause to worry. I’m sure you look different. Besides, she wouldn’t be expecting the little kid she played dolls with in Berlin to show up as a supposed Resistance Fighter in Canon City.” 

  


She nodded slowly, and he looked hard at her. 

  


“What exactly do you do, in the Reich?”

  


“I’m doing this job to retrieve the film.”

  


“Clearly, but you’re new to this.”

  


“Yes, just recruited by the high command. But I work for the Reich already.”

  


“Doing what?”

  


“ _ Schutzpolizei des Reiches. _ Civilian contractor.”

  


“Polizei?” He seemed surprised, but just then, there was a knock at the door. 

  


Joe crossed the room to opened it, and Trudy stood with her head down, looking up with a tired smile, but it left her face when she saw Anna perched on the end of his bed. She shook her head slightly, returning her attention to Joe,

  


“Hi, I have your money.” She stuck a hand out, prompting him to take the few crumpled Marks, which he did after a moment of hesitation, chuckling as he did.

  


“Okay. Thank you.”

  


“Uh, I wonder if I could ask you a favor,” She eyed Anna again, who had turned her head away to give the impression she was at least trying not to eavesdrop, “There’s a man I need to go see. Um…”

  


She produced an envelope from her coat pocket and handed it to him,

  


“Look, if for some reason I don’t make it back,” Anna turned towards them again at this, “do you think I could ask you to get this to San Francisco for me?”

  


Anna watched intently as Joe took the letter, reading the name scrawled on the front,

  


“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  


“Okay, I’ll do it.” He shook his head slightly.

  


“Thank you.”

  


“But-”

  


Trudy disappeared down the dim hallway before Joe could finish his dispute. 

~~

Joe held the curtain to the side, watching Trudy walk down the street, and behind her was cast a long shadow. The kettle whistled, steam shooting out of its mouth, and Joe moved to the portable stovetop that sat on the dresser, holding the letter in the steam. 

  


Tatiana took his place and watched Trudy’s retreating silhouette now, squinting out over the street. A slender figure darted into the darkness between buildings, close enough to trail Trudy but not enough to be caught by her. They were careful, and Tatiana lost sight of the shape twice before a metallic flash made her blink. 

  


Her eyes narrowed faintly, and she looked back at Joe. 

  


“I’m going to follow her. It appears I won’t be the only one.” 

  


Joe joined her at the window, letter in hand, and squinted into the shadows of the street below. 

  


“I don’t see anyone..”

  


Tatiana glared at him, and he shrugged. 

  


“Fine by me. Take a weapon with you, though. You need a gun?”

  


She smiled dryly, returning her gaze to the street, but pulled her revolver from the waistband of her skirt, holding it up. 

  


“I came prepared.”

~~

Evelyn followed the woman, dodging from shadow to shadow. She held her gun posed by her side, but she had no intention of shooting Trudy, it was who the waitress was meeting that concerned her. 

  


_ “An old man.”  _

  


That’s what she had recorded in her notebook when she first saw Joe enter the diner earlier that day. He had walked by an older man and watched as he left. At the time Evelyn didn’t think so much of it. But now she remembered everything leading up to that single moment; the prolonged glance Trudy had given in the direction of where the gentleman sat, the way Joe gave the same glance when the two of them passed, and the words Joe said when asking if Trudy knew the man. That he supposed he was just jealous. Trudy was reserved, but gave away the answer without realizing it, she did know the old man. And Evelyn could bet that was where she was going now, to meet him. 

  


They continued like this out of town and down the dirt road that wound through the dense woods.

Her cover was secure, Trudy would swing around at the snap of a twig caused by an animal but never saw Evelyn hiding mere feet away. 

~~

Joe sat on the floor with his back to the wall near the nightstand, his gaze fixed on the reel of film he had abandoned on the bed. He held his hands in front of his mouth and his eyes were red as he breathed heavily. The sharp ringing of the telephone startled him from deep thought and he slapped a hand on the receiver, hesitating before lifting it to his ear,

  


“Hello.”

  


“So we looked into this, uh, contact of yours, Joe, the man that makes the origami?” Smith’s tone was casual and Joe’s eyes scanned back and forth across the bed spread into front of him, “Seems he’s a rather dangerous fellow.”

  


“Dangerous?” Joe cleared his throat.

  


“An undercover agent for the S.D. Not one of ours. He’s probably eliminated quite a few subversives.”

  


“I see.” Joe’s brow furrowed in thought, but his gaze darted up as the door opened suddenly, Tatiana coming back into the room with an unreadable expression as she looked at him.

  


“Your mission’s off the books, Joe. I suggest you steer clear of him.”

  


“I’ll do that sir.”

  


“Good.”

  


“Heil Hitler.”

  


“Heil Hitler.”

  


Joe set down the receiver and turned his gaze again to Tatiana. 

  


“That was fast.” He commented dryly, and she frowned. 

  


“I need your help. I was following her out of curiosity, but I think she might be in real danger. Evelyn was following her-- and she has a gun.”

  


Joe gazed at her for a long moment. “That was the Obergruppenführer, just now. The old man, he’s undercover SD.”

  


Tatiana’s eyebrows arched. “SD? We’ve got to go, now. She’ll be dead if we don’t.”

  


Joe reached under his pillow, pulling out a gun. His hands were shaking a bit as he brushed his thumb and pointer finger over his nose, but he pulled the slide back, the resounding click of a bullet entering the chamber overloud as he steeled himself, rising from the chair with look of steely determination . 

  


“Let’s go.” 

  


~~

Evelyn had lost cover, instead staying back at the start of the bridge and ducking behind the concrete wall that connected to the road when a car approached. She watched as the vehicle came to a stop shortly in front of where Trudy stood, an arm tucked into her wrinkled jacket. The man got out and Evelyn crept on the opposite side of the bridge, using the few shadows to get near the back end of the car. When both Trudy and the man turned toward her direction, she dropped down, flattening herself against the concrete. She was silent as she practically crawled along the railing, finally gripping onto the cool metal of the car for support with one hand and holding her gun up in her other. She could barely make out what the pair were saying, the sound of the rushing dam was too great. 

  


Evelyn braved a glance at Trudy, the man hidden entirely from her view. Trudy took her arm out of her jacket suddenly, producing a reel of film and Evelyn put a hand to her mouth. 

  


The man must have said something and Trudy was pushed toward the railing of the bridge with force, and he came at her again. Evelyn stood up, watching as Trudy grappled with the man, shoving at his face as he tried to lift her over the edge. Evelyn held her gun out, taking a shot at the man, and missing anything important. This distracted him though, and they all turned to the squeal of rubber as a truck came ripping onto the bridge. Trudy and the man saw this, and saw Evelyn as well, gun raised in her hand and Trudy kneed him hard in the crouch. 

  


He stumbled away, and Evelyn took another shot, hitting his arm. Trudy ran past him, and he knocked her down, lifting her in the air again and flinging her back toward the railing. The truck came to a halt next to the car and Evelyn saw Anna and Joe get out of the cab, both with guns in hand. Trudy pulled herself up again, and the man advanced towards her. There was another shot into the man’s shoulder, from Anna’s gun this time, and the man was tossed over the railing of the bridge, his screams mixing with the rushing water. Trudy had done something, in the blink of an eye, so fast, and everyone stopped where they were. She landed on her hands and Joe walked toward her slowly. 

  


The film was lying just a few feet from her and she crawled towards it, stopping when Joe also came closer. 

~~

Tatiana gazed down at the canister in faint surprise. She’d nearly given up on Trudy being the messenger, expecting fully that it was Evelyn. Her pale gaze darted to Evelyn, who was watching Joe and Trudy apprehensively, her gun still half raised. Evelyn looked at the abandoned canister then, and her brow furrowed deeper, and Tatiana looked back at it as well.

  


Joe set down his gun, picking up the canister and moving carefully towards Trudy, hands up, and offered her the film, speaking quietly to her as Trudy was trembling and near tears. Shaking her head, Tatiana turned away, tucking her gun back into the waist of her skirt and letting her jacket fall over it to hide it, wandering over to the truck. Evelyn followed after a moment, and Tatiana let her get in ahead of her, grasping the handle over the door to pull herself up inside. 

  


Trudy finally approached, hunched over and shaking, and climbed in, leaving Tatiana with a small frown as she was squashed between the two. Pushed against Evelyn, Tatiana’s eyebrows pinched slightly to feel something jabbing her in the ribs, something solid in Evelyn’s jacket pocket. Shifting up a bit, she paused after a moment, wriggling her arm down to feel it as Joe climbed in and started the truck with a rumble. 

  


The unmistakeable shape of a film canister was outlined on Evelyn’s jacket, and Tatiana’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

  
How interesting. 


	5. Chapter 5

Evelyn stood by the window, fiddling with her wristwatch, and Joe sidled up next to her, offering her a glass. She took it gratefully,

 

“What are we going to do about the body, Joe? There’s two of our bullets in it…”

 

“Two? I thought Anna only shot once.”

 

“I shot him before you got there.”

 

Joe’s glared at her in confusion,

 

“And you didn’t take a kill shot? You could have ended it sooner.”

 

“Not if I wanted to hit Trudy by accident.”

 

Evelyn drank from her glass, looking away. The fact frustrated her, that she couldn't have snatched the film and ran, there just had to be someone in the way. A contact that didn’t have the good sense to feel out a sour exchange, although, it seemed Trudy could handle herself to an extent. It confused Evelyn as to why Trudy seemed so unprepared, if she was in fact a Resistance contact or messenger. Was she even carrying a gun?

 

Joe tapped a finger on the window in front of her, snapping her out of her thoughts,

 

“We have to go get the body, bury or hide it.” He looked out over the street below, “You’re stronger than Trudy. She’s got a thick skin but it’s going to be hard for her to see the body. I may need you to help.”

 

“Of course, unfortunately this isn’t my first rodeo.”

 

~~

 

Pulling down one of the metal slats of the blinds, she peered out, watching Evelyn cross the street with Trudy and Joe. Joe opened the door of the truck, ushering Trudy and Evelyn in, then climbed in himself and started it with a rumble. Tatiana’s gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment. Evelyn had been dressed in a navy blue skirt and a cream blouse, but her usual grey jacket was absent. She’d evidently decided to leave it behind.

 

Perfect.

 

Waiting until the truck had driven out of sight down the road, she turned, leaving her room and going down the hall to stop before Evelyn’s door. Making sure no one else was around, she knelt down, pulling a pin from her hair and wriggling it into the lock. Albert had taught her how to pick locks when she was twelve, deeming it an important life skill for whatever reason, but it had certainly paid off, as the door clicked and the lock released. Turning the knob, she peeked into the room, slipping inside. A suitcase was placed under the end of the bed, a coat and some stockings on the chair, and a makeup case on the desk.

 

She pulled the suitcase from beneath the bed, unlatching it. Carefully removing each piece of neatly folded clothing, she patted each one down, then set it aside. Finding Evelyn’s grey jacket, she finally felt something hard folded inside it.

 

 _Bingo_.

 

The circular canister was sewn directly into the lining, she found, not just in the pocket as she’d thought, and she pulled her little knife from her pocket, inserting the tip into the seam and carefully slicing through the stitching. Wriggling the canister out, she popped it open.

 

_The Grasshopper Lies Heavy._

 

She tucked it into her skirt pocket and removed her little sewing kit, beginning to carefully stitch the seam back up. Not that it mattered if it matched, Evelyn would notice it was gone, anyways. Abandoning the pointless process, she refolded the coat, replaced all the clothing in the suitcase and slid it back under the bed.

 

Rising, she appraised the room for a moment. Where was that ridiculous notebook she carried around? Pulling open the desk drawers, she rooted around, then reached for the makeup bag. Beneath the powder compact and lipsticks, she discovered a small envelope, and tore it open.

 

A stack of card spilled out, each one stamped with the symbol of the Resistance, the backs scrawled with various names, addresses, and phone numbers. A small smirk twisted Tatiana’s lips as she pocketed the envelope as well.

 

A thorough search of the rest of the room proved fruitless, evidently Evelyn carried the notebook at all times. Checking one last time to make sure nothing was out of place, she slipped from the room, locking the knob as she left.

 

Hurrying down the stairs, she went to the phone on the corner, placing a call to Headquarters.

 

“Tatiana. Have you been approached?”

 

“No, not exactly.”

 

“What, then?”

 

“I have the film.”

 

“Wonderful. Good job, Miss Richman.”

 

“I need to get out of here before they discover it’s missing, though.”

 

“Oh, that can be arranged. Can you get back to San Francisco?”

 

“Yes, sir. The bus leaves in about two hours, I believe.”

 

“A plane will be waiting for you at the airport.”

 

“Thank you, sir. Heil Hitler.”

 

“Heil Hitler..”

 

She replaced the receiver and tucked her hands into her pocket, a fingertip rubbing over the rim of the film canister. Hopefully she’d be able to leave before they returned.

 

She purchased a ticket back to San Francisco at the bus station and returned to the motel, beginning to pack all her belongings into her suitcase. Latching it shut, she locked it with the little key she wore around her neck, then glanced at her wristwatch, perching on the end of the bed to wait.

 

~~

 

The three of them trudged up the steps and down the hall and Joe disappeared into his room, Trudy disappearing into her room as well. Evelyn unlocked her door, and heaved a sigh when she got in, but halted her steps immediately. The hardshell suitcase was where she left it, under the end of the bed, but it was overturned on the wrong side, something only she would notice. The small knick on the left hand corner usually faced the door and she knew she had left it like that earlier that day.

 

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut _,_ “ _Scheiße!_ ”

 

She yanked the case out and tossed it on the bed, unlatching it and riffling through her neatly folded clothes, discarding them frantically on the bed. She found her grey jacket and examined the seam, it was half stitched together, but sloppy towards the end of the stitch, obviously an abandoned endeavor. The handiwork itself was not much different from how she had been taught, but not the same nonetheless.

 

Evelyn felt around the inner lining and balled the jacket up in frustration, sending it into the blinds of the window with a metallic crash. Evelyn rubbed her temples firmly, and let out a muffled cry, trying to control her anger.

 

Joe came running at the sound and was by her side in an instant, pulling her hands down to her sides,

 

“Shh, shh,” He bent slightly to look her in the eye, smoothing her hair back from her face, “Calm down, Evelyn.”

 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, my film is gone, Joe.”

 

He pulled back,

 

“What? You had a film?”

 

“Not anymore,” She moved out of his embrace and went to pick up her wadded coat from the floor.

She brought it back to where he stood and held the seam out for his to examine,

 

“It’s sewn together, somewhat, but not in the same stitching I use. Why the thief even attempted to sew it back is beyond me.” At his quizzical expression, she elaborated, “I sew the films into my clothing, Joe, that’s how I smuggle them. And I’ve just thrown it all away by not wearing my damn coat.”

 

She tossed the coat onto the bed, her eyes growing wide again, and she yanked the desk drawer open, pulling out her make up kit. Rummaging through it hastily, she produced nothing but a deeper furrow between her brows.

 

“They’re gone, too. The recruiting cards I carry. Shit.”

 

She brushed past Joe, finding Trudy in hall, having heard the sound of the commotion, concern clear on her face. Evelyn marched to Anna’s door and knocked persistently, eyes narrowing as there was no answer. The door opened when she tried the knob, and she shoved it open, the three of them gazing into the room, which had been cleaned, the bed made neatly, all personal effects gone.

 

“She’s done a runner..”

 

~~

 

“What time did the bus leave? The one to San Francisco?” Evelyn demanded, and the man at the counter looked back at her mildly, showing no concern for her harried state.

 

“Bus left at 2.”

 

Evelyn looked at her watch.

 

“Shit! That’s nearly three hours ago, now.” She glanced up at Joe. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope in going after her.”

 

Joe shook his head. “Three hours behind her? She’d be on a plane halfway to New York by the time we made it there.”

 

Evelyn’s lips pursed tightly. “She’s a Nazi, Joe. I underestimated a goddamn Nazi.”

 

Joe didn’t respond, eyeing her carefully, and Evelyn’s frustration spilled over as she slammed a hand down on the counter, startling the clerk.

 

“Happens to the best of us.” He shrugged, earning a not-so-amused glare.

 

~~

 

The plane landed with a barely-audible whoosh of the engine, and Tatiana checked her watch. One hour and fifty-eight minutes. If something could be said for the Reich scientists, it was certainly their invention of supersonic air travel.

 

“Miss Richman!”

 

A young soldier waved her down as she descended the stairs.

 

“I’m Schütze Zeigler. Obergruppenfuhrer Smith is waiting for you.”

 

He ushered her to a sleek black car, opening the door for her and taking her suitcase. Settling in, her hand slipped into her coat pocket, rubbing absently over the curve of the film canister.

 

A blond officer was waiting to meet them in the Obergruppenfuhrer’s outer office, and he looked at her curiously for a moment as the soldier departed.

 

“Tatiana?”

 

She stared up at his vaguely familiar face for a time, trying to place him, before some sudden memories clicked.

 

“Lawrence?”

 

Lawrence Klemm, he’d been one of Albert’s best friends for years, when they were in school.

 

He smiled at her then, unable to show too much familiarity there, but it was comforting to see a familiar face in the strict coldness of the SS building.

 

“I didn’t think you were around here, anymore. Figured you’d be off in Berlin with your father.”

 

“Mm, not yet. I’ve been working with the Polizei. Civilian contractor, nothing exciting. Albert and I had an apartment in the Uppers for a few years.”

 

His face went slack at the mention, and his gaze flickered to the floor for a moment.

 

“Albert.. Yes.”

 

“He’s dead, isn’t he.” She said quietly, the look he gave her confirmation enough.

 

There were footsteps in the hall and the Obergruppenfuhrer strode in, glancing her way.

 

“Miss Richman, what do you have for me?” He opened the door of his office and ushered her in, the door closing on Lawrence as he watched her with faint curiosity.

 

She wordlessly withdrew the film canister from her bag, handing it over. He popped the lid, looking at it passively for a moment before closing it.

 

“Excellent. The Major will debrief you, he will write up a report of your mission.”

 

She nodded, turning for the door.

 

“Miss Richman?”

 

Her hand paused on the knob of the door.

 

“Don’t leave anything out. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”


End file.
